Darken Psychology
by Nightwatcher's Dark Angel
Summary: It has been a decade now since the turtles have first encountered Bishop and were nearly his next science project. Splinter is dead and all is left is the four brother. When all is left but insanity, how will the family survive a deadly biological weapon?


The original idea of this story was to be a quick five page ff on the fast froward series, cheesy I know, but hay . . . but then I started to think and type and type and type and it became something more. I have worked on this story for over a year and a half and still no where near completion so i refurbished the prologue for audience rating. If you want me to continue, please tell me so I can post the 1st chapter.

The story plot takes place in the 03-cartoon universe, ten years after the end of season four, the outbreak incident. I'm all together ignoring seasons five and six (ninja tribunal and fast forward) for personal preference . . .

Disclaimer, I don't own any of the TMNT or any other characters. Rated for bodily violence and lingo.

**Darken Psychology **

**-Introduction-**

**_Nothing More_**

_Darkness engulfed this grotesque scene,_

_Becoming nothing but a distant dream._

_My heart is nothing more than that of a black, gaping hole_

_Sucking in everything that was our goal._

_Leaving nothing but thoughts of regret,_

_All hope smothered like a cigarette._

_My soul can not bear the burden placed upon the pillars of sage,_

_My mind boils with that of rage._

_It is polluted by such delusion,_

_All rational thought turning in to that of insurrection._

_No longer able to stand this chilling silence,_

_I stood and gathered up my weapons, my intention that of violence._

_Stepping out of the haze that was the lair,_

_I become aware, that he was there._

_Coming closer I could see_

_That he was in fact the key._

_Taking one more step, eyes wide open_

_I just kept hopin'._

_Was this right, was this fair_

_To stab him there?_

_As I stood a pondering_

_I decided to send his soul a wandering._

_As I pushed icy metal deep in to human flesh_

_There came nothing but an eerie hush._

_Watching my fire burn, as his own flickered out,_

_He knew then, what this was all about._

_Pulling away ever so slowly,_

_I knew then that my vengeance was of folly_

_Free from my blade, the body fell_

_And I knew that there was going to be hell._

_Whipping away blood that was from the human body,_

_I laughed out loud, full and hardy!_

_The body lied, slain on the dank and frigid floor_

_And I knew then, that there was nothing more . . ._

**-Prologue-**

"_See gentlemen, you have no choice but to comply, it is of mater of fact." The situation was as grave as the same hellishly chilling voice that the statement came from and it was indeed a mater of fact. What choice did they have? What could they do but to comply? Either they rush forth and risk all that they held dear or backed off and hope that their dearly beloved little brother would be unharmed. _

_They could only think of that, the life of the youngest of the clan and so there was only one possible solution to them; their weapons greeted the floor in a dissatisfied and soon to be regretted manner. The action was met with disesteem from the owners but great satisfaction and triumph from the antagonist; the inhuman grin curled upward in to a devil's leer of blood lust, forever engraved in to the minds of the brothers and father who stood helpless as they watched their brother's, the rat's sun, fiat unravel before their eyes. _

_A scapula was held taunt in a ghastly pail hand as it rested gently upon soft, reptilian flesh. Fear crept in to the eyes of the captive but was ready at any given moment to act upon reflex if possible. The chance that was suppose to reach him never did. _

_The blood lust grin that no one thought could have possibly gotten any wider just did; soft pink lips parted to reveal two rows of bleach white teeth and something new flickered in to the government man's eyes; there was something there that neither turtle nor rat had ever seen before but will soon never to forget. _

_Supposedly it was the love of his country, the deep and burdening passion to protect it at all costs from foreign entities but others would say that it was the lust for science, for his expansion of knowledge that drove him to utter madness. But then there were others who would justify that he was already at the brink of madness to begin with and all it took was a little opportunity to drive him to the path of obsession, to murder. _

_What ever it was, it didn't matter to the three turtles and rat because either way, they stood helpless, rooted in place by sure terror as they watched their little brother, the old rat's son, with eyes filled with such horror as the surgical knife drew deeper in to the softer flesh, cutting off any oxygen that could have possibly reached his lungs on his final gulp of air and within three seconds, even though blood still spewed out of the jugular artery with every dulling thump of the heart, Michelangelo was dead and gone from his family all because of one man. Bishop . . . _

Restless eyes shot open, unfocused and glazed over, darting around the abandoned room, searching for something unseen. His breathing came to him swallowed and unsteady with pain brought on by the night terror that still lingered with in his mind. Becoming more aware of his surroundings, the older turtle slowly slid his eyes shut once again, taking in another but more relaxed breath of air, helping to dull the pain within his burning lungs.

Some time slipped by before his eyes opened a new, allowing the faint flicker of candlelight to seep in to his clearing vision. Of what little warmth of those very same candles emitted began to soak in to the turtle's clammy skin.

Releasing the warm air that accumulated in his lungs, he rose from his meditative spot in his old home, his first home . . . and stood by a now crumbled wall that marked the spot of what once use to be his room.

Hidden away from the rest of the world, and his family, the ninja placed a hand over a map of the city that was marked with different colored markers that signified sightings and possibilities to where his enemy may lie.

Never will he forget nor will his restless mind allow him to for every time the images of the orange clad ninja's eyes filled with fear and helplessness burrowed into him and the inability to protect him would always be there, like the sharp edge of a katana imbedded in to his abdomen, even though it was only but a dream, and as long as he lived, those same night terrors would always plague his sleepless mind.

That was his curse, that was his torment for coming back all those years without a single blow from that bastard. All those years that his family had to suffer and he could do nothing but stand by watching, helpless to do anything to stop the cause. He was willing to take that burden because there was nothing else that was left to take except for one final prize.

He wanted to kill Bishop, he wanted Bishop's life and it was time to bring an end to this insanity, he was going to hunt down and kill that merciless bastard even if he himself had to pay the ultimate price . . .

The weary turtle let out a soft sigh of remembrance. That was over ten years ago that he had maid that solemn vow and he would keep it for another ten decades if he had to. It's not something that would go away, it couldn't; the nightmares were constantly replaying in his mind, intensifying as the years past, fueling the raging fire that allowed him to continue on.

The images were vivid, electrifying. His distorted memory always added gory scenes, possibly of what could have happened if April and Casey never reached them in time. They were always in Bishops cold, dark lab, strapped down to the varies of lab tables in the room. Their bodies slowly diminishing, becoming nothing more than a petrified corps. He all ways felt tired, drained and could never move much more than his head slightly to the side and that was where the bloody sight of his older brother caught his undivided attention.

The first time the dreams started, one brother's voice box was slowly cut out with a scapula; his brother was strapped down, couldn't move nor wiggle any part of his body with Bishop hovering over him with that sickening sneer plastered across his gleaming face. The bastard didn't even give his brother so much as aspirin to alleviate the pain, Bishop commented that he didn't want to dilute his blood so he cut the vocal cords so there wouldn't be any more 'distraction' later on when he worked. It was such a horrific screech that first time.

Every night since then it only got worst. Each time he closed his eyes, there was all ways another piece missing from the brother beside him and he could see the pain etched in his very being, even though he couldn't scream, he could still here the horrifying clamor echo in his inner ear. But the end of one brother's screeching didn't terminate the gut wrenching discord that not only continued every night but grew, intensifying and it tore him to ribbons because it belonged to that of his baby brother.

The once most easy going of the four brothers was now reduced to nothing but a highly vocal hunk of unrecognizable flesh. His body reeked of disease and infection, his face was so distorted, beyond recognition from chemical experiments, and his whole form was eating its self from the inside out. After, was it an hour or was it more?, either way it was like an eternity to him before the blood curling screaming desist and that's when Bishop's hellions would finally carted the youngest back in to the room, he was sure that his little brother was dead but the look in his little brother's eyes told him otherwise. He would be still upon the chilling cart with his breathing erratic, uncontrolled, his heart threatened to burst at any moment. His gaze was glued to a far away place, hopefully somewhere where he couldn't feel this immense pain. He truly wished that his brother was dead for he wouldn't have to endure any further.

Then there was his third brother. Just past where his older brother lied on his table there was a tank filled with preservative fluid containing the floating eyeless body of his dear brother. He supposed that out of all of them this brother had it the easiest, his brother was out, not conches but he also supposed that he had it the worst for his pain would be prolonged, far beyond what they were currently experiencing, he was just being saved for later.

Each time he closed his eyes, there was another piece missing from one brother, the youngest's body was even more disfigured, and the third brother was just there, all ways staring with empty sockets, never to know what be feel his brothers.

This never ending visual imprisonment was always there to constantly remind him of why he had to keep fighting, keep strong for his family. He could not a ford to allow what his mind torments him with to become a reality.

Faint glow from the candle light flickered in the corners of his worn eyes; years of practiced patience and determination etched his very being but the truth of this strength was forever concealed from the very people he loved. Deception . . . It was all one big fat lie but he could never allow his family to get involved, especially not now that he was so close in finishing up a decade long revenge.

Building up from what he had started nearly ten years ago, the ninja started to look over the final preparations, taking extra precautions as to not delay retrieving his prize. After setting up carefully plotted events throughout the course of the decade, he was ready to allow the chain of events to unfold and reveal his intention to the man that was the cause of all the torment.

The turtle had to chuckle at himself, both at the notion at the surprise in his brothers' eyes if they were to know how much time and patience he had put in to the whole scheme (how much patience that he actually had!) and the extent of his knowledge in technology and infantry tactics and the fact that his genius younger brother would deem him utterly insane, possibly just as much so as Bishop.

Hell, he probably was truly insane and needed help and plenty of medication to boot and he was willing to admit it too. How could you not be after spending a decade with little sleep and what little sleep you do get is spent in pain, watching family being mutilated, and you could never do a damned thing about it? But it would have to wait until Bishop was dead, only then would he consider.

In the end, that's why he spent many a' sleepless nights here in his old home, to keep away from his family because he feared that they would here him at night, fear that they would find out about all of this, all of his carefully mapped areas of the country, all the data he collected, the technological devices he stored and used to set up various stages if his revenge. At least here he was safe to peel back the mask that he so carefully woven over the coarse of the ten years to fit the hidden shadows within, he was able to reveal the true nature of what he had become, safe to show himself away from the prying eyes of his family.

With a heavy sigh the standing turtle turned abruptly on his heels, shrugging off his street garments that he was adorned in for his nightly raids on one or another of the government buildings and quickly placing all the loose papers in a folder, stashing it away in its hiding place amongst the debris. Blowing out the candles as he exited his hidden domain, the ninja took a brief glance around his surroundings before he set at a hurried pace for their current lair.

With twenty-six years of ninjutsu behind him, he cruised through the sewers with little effort in concealing his movements. He desperately needed help but could not a ford to turn back now, this was his only chance to bring an end to this still waking nightmare and no matter what, he was going to fulfill his silent vow to his family, no matter how high the price may become . . .

Thanks again for reading this! Please tell me what you think! Any comment is welcomed.


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